


Less Hate, More Smut

by misslizanne



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 9,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1261672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslizanne/pseuds/misslizanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of smutty drabbles</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Killian Wakes Emma

They spent the night on the Jolly Roger, escaping their responsibilities down at the station, his new position as her second deputy causing quite the stir in town as well as several heated arguments between them, worst of which happening last night after Hook tried to arrest one of the dwarves on disorderly conduct and Emma had to explain exactly what disorderly conduct meant (and that whatever the dwarf had done was not in fact the charge Hook was trying to incarcerate him for). 

It had ended in sex, of course, the type where they didn’t let the other win and things got heated and rough, the thumb-shaped bruise on her hip bone and the scratches on his back tangible evidence of how bad it got last night before they decided to fall asleep, neither one winning their customary competition of pleasure and wit.

She’s laying away from him, her body deprived of bed sheets, and she’s left a few inches of space between them, something he’s gotten used to, the savior not one for cuddling this early in their relationship, especially after the shouting match that ensued last night while he took her against the wall and she rode him into the desk and the ladder before they were too tired and worn out to continue.

He fights the urge to pull her into his chest, tell her he’s sorry for shouting, but he’s tried waking her up in the morning and it’s usually resulted in a swift kick to the groin, so instead, he slithers down the bed, perching himself at her lower half, tracing his fingers in taunting circles down her thigh before slowly stroking it up and down her folds, grinning when her body instinctively writhes against his finger, searching for friction.

She stills again, and he swipes his tongue over her core with a slow lick, smirking when Emma lifts herself up on her forearms, suddenly very awake, raising an eyebrow down at him in protest. 

“I’m sorry for last night, love,” he purrs into her center, and Emma lowers back down on the bed, moaning as his tongue darts back into her core, her fingers lingering down, threading through his hair, guiding him against her as he dips a finger in alongside his tongue, the sensation coursing through her veins, healing any bruise or ache caused by their dispute.

She curls her toes, her arousal from last night still humming through her as he increases his speed, her body arching off the bed as everything blurs around them, and all she can hear is his words buzzing through the air.


	2. Emma Wakes Killian

The light in the loft shines through the window, the glow hovering over his face pressed up against his pillow, his hair a messy mop on his head, a slight smile quirking in the corners of his mouth as he mumbles some inaudible babble in his sleep.

She remembers last night, when he was mesmerized with her body, clothes flying in all directions across the loft as they led each other to her bed, licking and kissing and devouring every inch until neither could take it any longer.

The electric touch he imprinted on her still lingers on her skin as she shuffles down the mattress, taking the thin bed sheet along with her, careful not to wake him from his precious slumber, leading the sheet down lower and lower to reveal his morning wood, standing tall, inviting her down.

She swipes her tongue slowly over the tip, noticing as his body shifts slightly underneath her, and then she lowers her mouth over it, taking it in her mouth a little bit, humming against his skin, causing him to moan breathlessly.

“Emma,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep as his eyes open, gazing down upon the naked blonde, bobbing up and down against his lower half, and he closes his eyes, dropping his head back onto the pillow, his morning a combination of groans and whimpers as she glides her tongue and mouth in ways he never expected.


	3. Princess Emma Seduces Lieutenant Jones

He walks her back to the castle, or at least tries to, but she’s bloody drunk, tripping over her dress and the cobblestones of the street and he groans at how unbelievably ridiculous she is in this moment.

“We’re almost there, princess,” he says, encouraging her to straighten up before she waltzes behind the castle walls, inebriated like a common peasant (or one of his sailors, and he knew he could have prevented this when she challenged the boatswain to a drinking game).

She trips once, falling easily into his arms, pressing up against him, her drunken state stumbling both of them backwards before his back hits a wall. “Well, hello there, Lieutenant,” she slurs, giggling at their now precarious position.

He tries to push her off him, attempts to get her to stand up on her own, but she’s ghosting her lips over his neck, hands drifting down to his white trousers, easily unfastening them, dipping her hands underneath the fabric and drawing slow circles against his lower half with her palm. 

“Your highness,” he mumbles, words harder to come by when she grabs him firmly, stroking up and down until she hinders him completely with the sensations her skillful handwork are causing, his deep groans when she flicks her thumb over his tip filling her with satisfaction.

“Shh, Jones,” she murmurs, nipping lightly at his lips before pressing a slow, heated kiss there. “Wouldn’t want the whole kingdom to hear.”


	4. What the Bloody Hell Is This?

“Love, what the bloody hell is this?” he asks, busting into the bathroom, startling her as she wraps a towel around her small frame, hair sopping as her eyes widen at the “toy” (for lack of a better word) he’s waving in her face.

“Give me that!” she shouts, trying to snatch the toy out of his hand, but he keeps it out of her reach, hiding it behind his back.

When she gives up and pouts a little bit, he only chuckles before his expression turns awfully indecent, a wicked glint in his eyes as he pulls the toy back in front of him, flicking the add-on jutting out from the front, “What’s this part for, Emma?”

She rolls her eyes, huffing at the embarrassment of this entire conversation, not realizing when he saunters towards her, wrapping his arms around her from behind, pulling the towel away from her body. 

“I guess, if you’re not going to answer me,” he croons, low in her ear, his voice raspy and it makes heat pool in between her legs. “I could just find out for myself.”

He dips the toy between her legs, pushing it up in between her slick core, nibbling on her neck as his thumb presses a button somewhere on the contraption causing the add-on to vibrate against her clit.

How he figures it out in the short time he’s in possession of it, she would never care to guess because the entire situation is so  _goddamn_  overwhelming that she leans her head back on his broad shoulder, riding the pleasure without regret.


	5. Soaked by the Rain

He’s soaking wet and grumbling in pain as she rushes him up the stairs into the loft, the sharp discomfort pulsing in his lower abdomen, a result of a Wicked Witch fireball aimed right at his torso.

She pushes through the door, guiding him towards the couch, both of their clothes drenched from the rain, but she cares more about his welfare, shrugging the vest off his shoulders and practically ripping the shirt from his chest, revealing a burning scar, red and raw across his stomach.

He grimaces at the sting the cool air of the loft causes when it brushes over the gash, causing Emma to panic, not knowing how to help him.

He grabs her hand, guiding it towards the wound, “Access your emotions, love. Use magic,” he murmurs, his eyes half-lidded from pain, and amongst her cries and shudders, a bright purple light begins to spark from her fingers, the injury disappearing right before their eyes.

“Good girl,” Hook whispers, laying back down on the couch, pulling her down with him and kissing her lips with a hunger she’d only ever experienced in Neverland, the grind of their soaked bodies creating a comical squishing noise.

“We should probably get you out of these wet clothes,” she mumbles, lifting him up with her, her long legs straddling him as she shrugs the shirt off of his shoulders, wringing it out to their side, tugging her own shirt over her head, quickly unclasping the bra behind her.

She reaches for the laces of his leather pants, slick with rain, and slips them down his legs, grinning when he gasps at how aroused he is, knowing it’s mostly from how impressed and proud he is with her magical abilities (and it doesn’t hurt that she slinks seductively out of her leggings and underwear, tossing them into the heaping pile of soaked clothes).

She’s a different kind of wet as she lowers herself onto him, letting a soft oh escape her throat as he reaches deep inside of her, filling her walls completely, the arch of her back causing him to sit up, snaking his hooked arm around the curve of her waist, her hips rolling deliciously against his, her breasts rubbing against the hair of his chest, causing her nipples to harden.

He leans forward, capturing her pulse point in his mouth, sucking on it, skimming his tongue over it in light flicks, his groans pulsating against her skin as her walls begin to flutter around him, his hips lifting up to thrust into her, filling her even more than before.

Her body tenses, the heat enveloping her completely, her muscles contracting and washing over him, causing him to release with a soft grunt into her neck. 


	6. Grinding Up Against Each Other

She’s got him pinned on the couch, legs straddling his hips as he tries to flip her over. She pulls his wrists above his head, holds them there while she rubs her core against him, loving the delicious friction it creates against the hem of her tight jean shorts.

Emma crashes her lips down onto his, tugging his bottom lip hard before swiping her tongue into his mouth. Had he not eyed her from across the room like some sort of prize, things may have not escalated to this point. She can sense the tension in his body, the way he wants to touch her, to  _feel_ her despite her bodily protests, and it makes her oddly proud that he’s pinned beneath her.

He pulls back for a moment to catch his breath, eyebrows wagging in that stupid fashion he should just patent already. “Are you just going to grind down on me, love?” he asks, voice gravelly and teasing. “Are we bloody lovestruck teenagers?”

She grins, rolling her hips along the bulge of his leathers. “Fortunately, I can get off like this.”

She sits herself up, rides his hips, biting her lip at the small jolt of pleasure it provides. She knows she’s let go of his hands, and it takes him a second longer than anticipated to realize, sitting up abruptly to tackle her onto the opposite side of the couch.

His mouth hovers dangerously close to hers, fingers trailing down her midsection to pop the button of her shorts and slip his fingers below her lace. “Sometimes I think you forget I’m a  _pirate_ , love.” He slips his fingers into her slick heat, grinning as she whines with pleasure. “And a pirate  _always_ wins.”


	7. Lap Dance

Emma leans against the doorway, watching as his steely blue eyes trail up and down her lingerie clad figure, red lace with just a hint of black. Red seems to do unspeakable things to him, and she can’t imagine what’s rolling through his mind at the moment.

She saunters towards Killian, smiling anxiously before she sits on his lap. She grips the arms of the chair as he nuzzles his head into her shoulder, her hips rolling in figure-eight motions, causing him to exhale shakily onto her skin.

He pushes her thin bra strap aside to trail his mouth down her shoulder towards her back, nipping lightly with his teeth, but she stands abruptly, chuckling at the groan of discontent he emotes.

She grins, licking her lips before straddling him in his chair, hands gripping his shoulders. She grinds down on him, a simple roll of her hips that has him biting his lip in anticipation, her core riding down on the erection she’s caused.

She reaches for the hem of his cotton shirt, pulling it up and over his head, then leans into his front and drags her chest up his bare torso, letting his face linger between her breasts. He places a warm kiss to her skin, looking up through his fluttering eyelashes to judge her approval. She nods, and he pushes away the cup to reveal a pert nipple, taking it into his mouth and suckling. 

She whimpers, hands raking over his body when he turns his attention towards her other breast. Her hands find their way to his hair, tugging and pulling so he’ll give her exactly what she needs. 

He groans when her hips drive down harder against his leathers, and he responds by picking her up off his lap and carrying her towards the bed, plopping her down and ridding himself of his leathers.

She pulls down her underwear, reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra when he shakes his head.

"No, love. Leave it on." 

She grins.


	8. Pinned Against a Wall

He’s been at The Rabbit Hole for a while, chugging mugs of rum with Robin when he excuses himself to head to the bathroom and suddenly feels the sharp tug of a hand, pulling him into some vacant storage room in the back of the bar.

"Hello,  _captain_ ,” Emma murmurs, pushing him against the nearest flat surface, arms situated on either side of him, palms pressed firmly against the wall behind him. “You’ve been teasing me all night.”

She rocks her hips into his, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw, trailing up towards his ear and licking his earlobe.

"Have I now?" Killian asks breathlessly, trying desperately to retain his control of the situation, knowing the growing bulge underneath his leathers is proving otherwise.

"All those longing looks from across the bar, like you’re undressing me with your eyes." She traces her lips past his pulse point before sucking hard enough to leave a bruise he won’t soon forget. "Sometimes I wonder if you’re all talk and bravado."

"You want action, Swan?" He brings his hand and hook to her waist, flipping her over so she’s pinned against the wall. His hook pulls her leg around his waist, thrusting his hips into hers. "How’s that for action?"

She moans, back arching off the wall as he finds that sensitive spot beneath her jeans. “ _Yes_ _.”_


	9. Private Time Interrupted

The shower beads off her skin, the steamy scent of floral bodywash wafting through the bathroom as she slips another finger in, chest heaving as she slams her hand against the tiled wall of the shower in the loft. 

"Love?" she hears, but she assumes it’s her lust-filled memory finding his soft lilt when she’s so close to the edge, teetering on the delicate wall of pleasure and absolute bliss.

Her back arches, a pleased moan escaping her throat when she hears it again.

“ _Em-ma_.” It’s spoken like a pleading prayer, and she smiles at her own mind’s inability to separate pleasure and  _him_.

"Gods,  _Emma_ _.”_ She stills as the voice whispers into her ear, her fingers pumping slow and tentative as she feels his warm body press against her, suddenly realizing he’s behind her. 

She turns directly into his hooded gaze, a dark want and need apparent in his eyes as he rakes over her naked body, pressing his already hardened erection against her stomach.

"Don’t stop on my accord, love," he croons, reaching down to grab hold of her wrist, willing her to continue.


	10. Confessing a Fetish

She’s not sure what his reaction will be when it pops into her head while she writhes underneath him on the mattress. She moans as his talented fingers graze her stomach, sinking lower, lower,  _lower_ and she can’t help but lift her hips into his touch, incapable of denying herself to him.

He grins against her breast, nipping at her skin as she sighs contentedly before working up the nerve to make her request.

“ _Killian?_ " she asks, breathless and needy and absolutely desperate, his head lifting up from his ministrations.

"Yes?" He looks at her, gaze dark and heated, blue eyes piercing through her and she feels her heart spasm in her chest almost immediately.

She reaches to the side, lifting his left arm up to run her fingers across the hook, brushing the sharp tip ever so slightly.

"I was… just… wondering," she stammers, caressing the metal appendage, biting her bottom lip anxiously.

"What is it, love?" He props himself up on his right elbow, moving to the side to give her space.

"I was wondering," she starts, smirking as the sentence forms in her head. "If instead of your fingers, you could use your hook."

His eyes widen, eyebrow shooting up in question. “Are you sure?”

She takes his hook and places it flat against her stomach. His breath catches as she runs the metal across her abdomen, letting it travel down, down,  _down_ until it’s grazing her heated flesh. She rubs it once through her folds, whining when it presses against her clit.

“ _Yes_.”

She rolls her hips into the curve of his hook as he readjusts it between her thighs, careful to separate them enough to prevent injury. She plants her feet firmly on the bed, raising her hips to meet the chilled touch of the metal with each movement.

"You like that?" he asks, toothy grin growing on his lips as he leans down, capturing a nipple in his mouth. 

She thrusts her hips up into the hook, whimpering when he pushes her folds apart just enough to make her back arch. 

"Oh god  _yes_.”

His free hand runs across her shoulder, cupping her neck, stroking the skin there with his thumb as she lets a sharp cry, the pointed tip rubbing up against her clit, sending sparks shooting through her.

"You like having the infamous Captain Hook take you in such a manner?" he asks when he releases her nipple from his mouth with a loud pop.

“ _Please_ ,” she moans, her hands running through his hair, tugging and pulling desperately.

He quickens his pace, careful to brush the tip of his hook past her clit with each movement. ”Come for me.”

She rolls her hips, meeting the swift pace of his metal attachment.

"Come for Captain Hook, love," he whispers into her ear, biting on her earlobe, propelling her towards the white hot pleasure she enjoys so much. 


	11. Moaning the Other's Name

There’s the way she screams his name as he rams into her against the door to the loft, her fingernails digging into his skin through the fabric of his black shirt,  _Killian!_ coming out in a sharp cry when she comes around him, her head falling back onto the wood of the door as he drives her to the edge and back.

There’s the way she hums it into his ear ( _Kill-ian, Kill-ian_ ) as she nibbles on his neck while they sit on the couch watching late night movies, hands roaming across his thighs until she sneaks past his laces, teasing and stroking him until he’s absolutely broken.

There’s the way she moans his moniker when he tears at the lace around her hips, rips through the shirt hugging her slender frame, toying with the ends of her hair, metal cool against her heated flesh ( _Hook, take me please…_ ), taunting her until she raises her hips up to him, coating him with her heat, begging him to fulfill her needs. _  
_

And then there’s the way she whispers it as he takes her slow and deliberate, sending sparks flying and making her toes curl ( _Killian, oh Killian_ ), hands tugging desperately at his hair, her voice always sounding like a soft prayer, a beacon calling him home, home,  _home_.


	12. Giving the Other a Strip Tease

She’s been using these exercise DVDs for almost a month, feeling the burn in her abdomen, the stretch of her back, the heat radiating from the muscles in her thighs and arms. She looks at her body in the mirror, noticing the new muscles that have formed, poking them with her fingers to test their stability. 

It’s been  _different_ feeling the need to keep up one’s appearance, especially for a man that makes her nervous and giddy and downright  _sexy_  in everything from lingerie to sweatpants. So it’s not even a second thought when she puts on some sort of low, pulsing music when they come home from dinner at one of the more upscale restaurants in Storybrooke, anticipation pooling low in her belly.

A mischievous grin forms on her lips as she decides on her next action, gaze studying Killian’s confused expression.

"Love?" Killian asks, curious as to her mind’s intentions.

Emma chuckles deviously, taking his good hand in hers and walking him towards the couch, pushing him forcefully so he sits down on the cushions. She feels seductive, domineering, in _control_ , and she knows it’s because of him (because he always builds her up, because he’s always her  _savior_  and she knows exactly how to thank him).

There’s a hint of a buzz coursing through her system as she reaches behind her to pull down the zipper of her skintight red dress, hand moving tantalizingly slow. She doesn’t let it fall to the ground though, idly swaying her hips to the music.

Killian reaches up to touch her but she backs away, smirking as she lets one strap of the dress fall off her shoulder, repeating the action with the other, letting her head fall back so her golden waves are splayed across her shoulders.

His gaze grows darker as the dress slips slowly down her frame, pooling at her feet before she kicks it away in the direction of the couch. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as she sways closer. 

"You’re bloody breathtaking," he whispers as he readjusts his position, feeling the need for her grow under his leathers.

She unclasps the bra, shucking it off and tossing it behind her, hips gracefully moving to the rhythms emitting from the speakers.

"I know," she answers, a sharp shriek of a giggle escaping her throat when his hook makes contact with the lace around her waist, tugging her down to straddle him, tearing the garment to pieces.


	13. Giving a Lap Dance

She doesn’t know what she was expecting when he said he had a surprise for her when she came home, but if the dimly lit bedroom and the soft lilting guitar music is any indication, she should really prepare herself for what’s next.

"Why don’t you sit, love?"

She hears it, low and rich with that accent of his that she can’t help but associate with sex as he appears from the dark corner of the room into the thin stream of moonlight peeking through the bedroom window. He’s only in his leathers, shirt left hanging off the bedpost, brace and hook still strapped to his left arm. 

"I… I…" she stammers, feeling her body go limp with whatever seductive game he’s playing. "What are you doing?"

He chuckles, devious and sinful to her ears. “Having a little fun.”

"A little…  _fun_?” She chokes on her words, the air leaving her lungs abruptly when that evil glint appears in his eyes, the one she knows all too well.

 

He strides towards her, swiftly picking her up and pushing her up against the nearest wall, placing kisses down her neck. He grinds his hips deliciously into her center, grinning against her skin when she moans.

He walks them both towards the nearest chair, his good hand placed on the heated flesh of her thigh, gently sitting her down on it. He hovers over her, legs straddling her and the chair, hook braced on the back of it as he rolls his hips into her, his hardened arousal straining against his leathers.

She reaches for the laces, barely loosening them when he swats her hand away.

"Not tonight," he purrs, hand and hook reaching for her legs, bracing them on his shoulders. "Tonight, love, I take care of you."

He stands up, letting her rest there above him as she takes her shirt off, whimpering when his scruff brushes against her bare abdomen, his lips nipping and biting her skin. He shuffles her down his torso, letting her legs wrap tightly around his slender waist as he lowers her body, riding his hips hard into her center, good hand tracing the muscles in her stomach.

“ _Killian._ ”

His strong arms lift her back up, his lips capturing hers in a heated kiss. He turns, sits down on the chair with her on his lap as he threads his fingers through her hair, tongue darting in to swipe against her lips before she parts them for him.

She moans against them, biting down on his bottom one as his hand wanders down her back, unclasping her bra and letting it fall between them. It gets tossed to the side when he stands them up again, moving them towards the bed, carefully placing her down upon it.

Her hands fumble with the button and zipper of her jeans as she shimmies out of them, feet kicking them off. She bites her lip when he grins devilishly, lowering himself down onto her, one leg locking one of hers onto the bed while he lifts her right leg over his shoulder to grind into her hips. He keeps her there, grinning as she whines with pleasure, her body writhing on the bed. 

It’s a tease, the whole bloody thing, and he knows it, in fact, he relishes in it as her skin turns a beautiful shade of pink and her lips part in agonizing pleasure and her hips search for purchase against him.

“ _Killian_ ,” she breathes out, broken and needy. “I need you.”

He fights back the urge to just take her there, his plan of prolonging the fun too present in his mind. He brings her hands up to his chest, silently offering for her to roam his body in exchange for her patience. Her fingers trail over the lines of his torso, her fingernails digging in and pulling on the hair when he rolls his hips  _just right_.

Her hands roam down his body, sneaking past the slightly undone laces to grasp onto his cock, stroking him firmly.

"Bloody hell, Swan." His chin falls to his chest, lips pursed.

She grins, matching his expression from earlier. “I’m just having a little  _fun_.”

His hook loops into her underwear, loudly tearing the lace hugging her hips. He groans when she continues to undo the laces, helping his cock spring free from its confines.

She links her right leg over his hip as he slides into her with ease. “Gods, Emma.”

"It’s what… you do to me," she whispers, wriggling her left leg out from under his.

He groans, head falling to the crook of her neck, unable to focus on anything besides the way her legs link above his ass and her walls clamp around him and her teeth bite down on his shoulder to suppress the pleasure overwhelming her. 

"Just… like that." Emma lifts her hips up desperately, skin slapping against his as she searches for their releases, her hand reaching between them to rub furiously at her clit. "Oh god  _yes_.”

"Em… Em…ma," he pants against her neck as he drives into her, grunting with satisfaction when she screams his name out, white hot heat coursing through her veins. The image fills him with desire as he rams into her, harder and faster, filling her up until he’s flying over the edge too.


	14. Having a “Friend” Over and the Other Accidentally Interrupting

It was a dare, a dare placed by Tinkerbell and seconded by a very timid Belle and god forbid Emma back down from one (even if they were all drunk as hell and this  _was_ an afterthought of a bachelorette party that was as vanilla as they come).

"You s-sure about th-this?" Ruby says, hiccuping through the sentence. "I don’t want you to do anything you’re… un-uncomfortable w-with."

 

Emma shakes her head. “No, it’s fine.”

She gulps down hard when she sits down on the couch next to the brunette, pushing the hair out of her face. She bites her lip before she leans into Ruby, brushing her lips softly across hers. She cups her cheek gently, feeling Ruby’s mouth open fully to her, tongue darting in to tangle with the wolf’s. It’s slow and sensual and she can feel when Ruby nips at her bottom lip, when the girl’s hands wander a little bit across her thighs before Emma hears the closing of a door and a very familiar  _bloody hell_  echo through the silence.

Emma jumps back, heart racing as Killian strides across the room, noticing the blush creeping up Emma’s neck and blossoming in her cheeks. 

The girls all let out a giggle as Emma reaches haphazardly for her jacket on the arm of the couch, completely embarrassed that Killian was more than ten minutes early and holy  _crap_ she just kissed Ruby.

"What— how— you two—" Killian croaks, causing Ruby to smile proudly.

"It’s nothing," Emma states, shrugging her leather jacket over her shoulders, trying to maneuver her way up and towards the door, failing miserably when the rush of standing and the copious amounts of rum hit her like a freight truck.

"But… but you were just kissing a  _girl_ ,” he whispers, as if it’s some secret and he’s a twelve year old boy who just discovered porn.

Emma groans, head falling to her hands. “I said it’s nothing. Forget it.”

"I’m only a man, love," he teases, pulling Emma into his embrace, purposefully letting her feel the evidence of what her action did to him.

Ruby hums contentedly, “Not for nothing, pirate, but your girlfriend is one  _hell_ of a kisser.”

Killian smirks, raising one eyebrow towards the wolf. “Oh, I’m very  _very_ aware,” he says before he leans in to capture Emma’s lips himself.


	15. Spanking the Other

She’s face first into the pillow as his hand and hook roam her naked body, sliding across the curves of her hips, fingers delicately tracing the line of her spine, hook trailing up towards her shoulder, the metal cool against her heated flesh.

His hand travels lower, lower,  _lower_  until he’s  _right there_ , fingers sliding between her folds, tentatively exploring the arousal now dripping down her thighs.

"Gods, you’re wet," he croons, and he almost causes Emma to fall apart instantly, his lilted accent enough to send her spiraling over the edge.

His fingers taunt her before two slip in easily. She arches her back, searching for more friction, rolling her hips in a deliberate attempt to find it. 

He pulls out, causing her to whine in protest when his hand makes contact with her ass, slapping her hard, the moan spilling from her lips loud and quick. 

"Do you enjoy that?" he asks, rubbing his fingers between her folds swiftly before lifting his hand to smack her again, the silky wetness from her core leaving a stain on her skin there. 

"Oh…  _god_ ,” she whimpers as he kneads her ass, his hips lowering as he lines himself up with her entrance, pushing in slow, filling her to the brim.

He grunts as he pulls back to slam into her, her hips lifting up towards his almost of their own will.

"Gods, Emma, do you know how beautiful you look right now?" His voice is a broken grumble as he rams into her, her body moving further up the mattress, nipples rubbing deliciously against the comforter. "Do you know what you look like wrapped around my cock?"

She moans in a reply of  _oh-god-yes-please-don’t-stop_  as he falls onto her back, coarse chest hair rubbing between her shoulder blades with every thrust, his hook ripping a long tear in their bed as his lips kiss up her shoulder towards her ear.

"Bloody beautiful, so bloody beautiful," he praises as he drives into her erratically, her hips rolling frantically as they both clamor for release, the groans of pleasure echoing off the walls as they fall apart for one another.


	16. Grinding

The bar is dimly lit when he saunters up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She’s been swaying to the rock tunes for a good half hour, her body moving through the floor like molasses through a jar as the whiskey coursed through her veins, making her pleasantly inebriated.

"If you keep moving like that, love, you’re bound to attract the attention of any one of the scoundrels in this establishment," he whispers in a low growl into her ear.

She hums, backing up into his waist, noticing the hardened arousal poking through the dark jeans, tight around his lower half (not that she picked them out for that  _very reason_ , they just went well with the black v-neck shirt she purchased as well).

His hips thrust unwillingly into her ass, causing her head to fall back onto his shoulder, her hips rolling slow and deliberate as they dance to the music.

"And if you keep moving like that, you might find yourself locked in the bathroom with a dirty princess," she murmurs as her teeth find his earlobe, tugging on it, tongue darting out to lick underneath it. 

He groans, leaning down to bite hard on her neck, arms tightening around her waist, pressing her further into the arousal he can no longer hide.

"As a pirate, I am more than happy to oblige."


	17. Hickeys

Emma claims the turtlenecks are from the unbearable cold that seems to plague Storybrooke. Killian promises the newfound buttons on his shirt (which, let’s be real, were always there, just neglected more often than not) are because his salted skin doesn’t fair well in the snowy weather.

But they both know why…

 

There’s a purple bruise on her pulse point, a memory of his teeth clamoring against it as he spilled into her hot and fast in the shower, his breathing ragged as she saw stars and he murmured her name in a broken staccato.

There’s the uneven blueish-black one on his collarbone, evidence of his talented fingers pushing her towards the brink in the bathroom at Granny’s, pulling her over the edge of bliss and pleasure, her teeth sinking in as she suppressed a moan (that she’s sure came out in a loud, sharp cry regardless).

The dark black one above her breast from a dalliance in her bug, her hands grasping his cock, stroking in even, calculated movements, his hips jerking into her for desperate release, his growl of frustration as she stopped before his teeth bit down, making her walls clench immediately.

And then there’s the one that got them caught, the purple-red one under his earlobe from when he slammed her into her desk at the station, her hands grasping his shoulders, holding herself steady, his words ( _Come on, love. Come for me. Be a good girl and come for me_ ) sending her sky-rocketing towards her release.


	18. His Wet Dream

The first few nights he sleeps over, she notices the frequency with which he has nightmares. The first few nights, it was Milah, a broken plea to save her, a threat towards a crocodile, the sobs that wracked his body when the dream reached its end. Weeks passed before she’d experience a Liam dream, his eyelids fluttering, smile plastered on his face as the memories of a childhood she would never learn of flashed before his mind until he woke in a cold sweat, clenching the sheets, breathing hard as she soothed his pain.

But tonight… this is something new.

There’s a moan that leaves his lips, his arousal hard and heavy against her inner thigh. She tries to sleep, tells herself it’s nothing but he moans again, his hips rocking slowly into her ass. 

“ _Emma_.”

 _Seriously?_  It was three in the morning?

She turns in their embrace and notices his eyes are still shut, his hips grinding towards her of their own accord, her center now brushing against him every so often. 

He’s asleep, asleep…  _Oh,_ he’s  _asleep_.

She takes that moment to cup his face in her hands, kissing him gently which causes him to wake with a jolt.

"Did I wake you, love?"

She grins and gestures to his lower half. “Yes.”

He peers down, noticing the hardened erection and then back up at her, her eyes twinkling as she rolls him over. She perches her hands on his chest, sinking down onto his cock, moaning in pleasure as he fills her to the hilt.

She leans down to kiss him again, running her hands across the plains of his torso, outlining the muscles of his abdomen as he thrusts himself further into her, groaning when she rolls her hips just right.

"I hope this is better than the dream you were having," she whispers when her lips leave his.

He leans up to kiss her. “You, my love,  _are_  the dream.”


	19. Trying to Turn the Other On

He leans in closer to her in the rounded bar booth, the loud music thrumming heavy in their ears. His lips are barely a whisper of a touch on her skin, kissing a trail up towards the niche underneath her ear.

"How do you want me?" he murmurs and it takes every fiber of her being to not melt right then and there.

She turns to look at him. “Are you serious?”

"Aye," he says with an nod of his head, eyes glinting with devious intent. "How does Emma Swan want me?"

Her body trembles with his words until he shuffles even closer, causing all the air to whoosh out of her system in a quick exhale.

"I… I don’t know," she stumbles, face growing hot, the heat creeping down her neck. He pushes the strap of her camisole aside, nipping at her shoulder. 

"Oh, I think you do, love." His good hand wanders in between her thighs, rubbing at the crease of her jeans. "Do you want me in your mouth?" 

She doesn’t answer, so his hand rubs harder, furious circles that have her seeing stars already. 

"Do you want yourself in mine?"

She tries to shake her head, really, really  _tries_  but she can’t move, frozen in whatever haven of sex-induced pleasure he’s trying to envelop her in.

"Hmm, this is awfully troubling," he hums, thumb popping the button of her jeans open. "Do you want my fingers inside of you?"

She moans when he finds her, wet and hot and goddamnit it feels good. She hopes (no, she  _prays_  because between his accent and his words and his suggestions, she may just snap in two) her hips grinding down on him is enough of an answer.

He leans in, nibbles at her neck, sucking lightly on her pulse point. The bar is dark and crowded enough that nobody notices as his hook pulls the strap of her camisole off. 

"I bet I know exactly what you want, Swan," he states, gleaming with pride.

"Do you?" She lets it out in a breathy whimper, head falling to the crook of his neck.

He chuckles, and it rumbles against her chest as he leans down towards her ear. ”I bet you want me buried deep inside you.”

She jumps up, pushing herself out of the booth and marching off towards the bathrooms in the back of the bar. He doesn’t need a verbal answer, the sway of her hips and the loose fit of her unbuttoned jeans all the answer he needs


	20. Private Time Interrupted

"Killian?"

Emma knocks on his door at Granny’s, hearing nothing but the running of his shower, the soft lull of the television and a  _moan_?

"Killian?" 

She knocks louder, wondering if he’s heard her at all when she catches a broken groan, her name  _Emma, Emma_ spoken in a lilting rhythm that has her own body thrumming with want for him.

 

She jiggles the door handle, easily letting herself in as she walks towards the bathroom, grinning when she hears his pained grumble, a loud thump of his arm against the tile wall. 

The bathroom is hot, water steaming up from the shower and his body, taut and tan, water running over his ass as he thrusts into his hand in the most erotic picture she’s ever seen. 

"Gods,  _Emma_ ,” he whispers, another moan escaping his throat as he strains to keep himself steady.

"Yes?" she asks, cheeky grin forming on her face. He stills, hand mindlessly stroking his cock as he turns, noticing her through the frosted glass of the shower door.

"How long have you…"

"Long enough to know you’re close." She steps forward, sliding the shower door, revealing him fully to her. "Don’t stop on my accord."

She bites her lip enticingly, watching as he continues to drive his hand down his shaft, the smell of spice and soap and  _sex_  driving him on. She pulls him in for a brutal kiss, teeth clacking and tongues dueling as he finds his release, his cock hot and pulsing in his hand. She cards her fingers through his hair before he wraps his stumped arm around her waist, pulling her in with him, bedclothes and all.


	21. Sexting

_Swan_ , it reads as her phone blinks up at her. She’s at the station, observing David as he books one of the Merry Men for public indecency (he claims he was “bathing” but this is Storybrooke, not the Enchanted Forest, and when did her life become  _this?_ ).

 _What?_  she texts back, watching as the three dots flash across their conversation, impatiently awaiting his response.

 _I need you to come home_.

She grumbles, shaking her head because goddamnit if he broke the toaster again trying to put his freaking hook in it to get out a melted Pop-Tart for Henry, she’ll kill him. She’ll kill them both.

_I’m at work. Call my mother if you need something._

Her mother really is only a phone call away, and she wishes he’d stop calling her for every little problem. She knows Storybrooke is hard to adjust to, especially as a fairytale character (she assumes this much, because the opposite is very much true) but he really needs to learn to take care of himself, centuries old pirate captain that he is.

_She surely can’t help me with this predicament, love. Trust me._

She places the phone down, trying to ignore it when it buzzes two times. She puts it in the drawer, trying to fill out the paperwork on the forest dweller when she hears it buzz a third time. She opens the drawer, taking the phone, mouth agape at the very nature of what the buzzes contained.

_Swan, I need your marvelous pink lips wrapped around my cock._

Oh my God, he  _did not_  just send that.

_I want to be coming deep inside you right bloody now._

Is he serious? Is he fucking serious?

_I want you so tight around my cock that you have to scream my name in endless pleasure._

Honestly, he was joking. This was a prank.

_Swan…_

It buzzes again and she bites her lip, trying to quell the heat pooling in her belly.

 _I need to fuck you_.

"David," she chokes out, not realizing how dry her throat had become. "Killian broke the toaster again. I’m taking my lunch break."

She smirks as she rushes to grab her coat, hurdling out the door and down the street, texting him as she practically jogs towards the loft.

_Be careful what you wish for, pirate._


	22. Pinning the Other Against the Wall

It’s needy and breathless as he pulls her into the loft, pushing her hard against the door after he practically slams it shut. Her head bangs just a little bit against it but not enough to bother her when his hips are grinding into hers like  _that_ and his teeth are nibbling her neck  _right there_  and his beard is scratching her skin  _just right_.

His hand roams underneath her shirt, heated touches that cause her to go insane, fingers nimbly unclasping her bra and letting it fall just enough so his hand can sneak under it, pinching her nipple to a stiff peak.

"God,  _Killian_ ,” she whimpers as he halts his ministrations on her breast, leaning in to kiss her chastely. _  
_

"You’re blushing," he mentions, hand coming up to cup her cheek, hips still grinding into her center. "I always love it when you blush."

She smiles, really  _smiles_  because he’s a sex-driven pirate one second and a sweet, touching boyfriend the next. Sometimes, she can’t keep track. Right now though, she really could use the pirate.

 

She reaches up, grabs his hand from her cheek and places it down by the button of her jeans. She undoes it for him, then guides his hand further, past the lace of her underwear and into her core, wet and slick and ready for  _him_.

"I want you,  _now_ ,” she suggests, rolling her hips against his fingers as two thrust slowly up into her heat. “I need you _, now_.”

He shudders as she whispers his name as a stilted whimper on her lips, her cheeks blushing redder than ever.


	23. Tying Up the Other

It’s she who ties him up, convincing him to strip down to nothing, good hand and hooked arm bound together behind him by his wrists, his legs tied tightly to the chair. He watches her with hooded eyes, the smooth creamy white of her skin, the ample curve of her breasts, the full pink color of her lips, the blonde curls that tumble around her face.

 

His cock juts out as if it’s pleading, and she chuckles, low and heavy and sinister, as if this is her wildest fantasy, tying up a pirate and having her bloody way him.

(She’d been lying if the thought hadn’t regularly consumed her mind since he asked her to  _set sail_.)

"Fighting will only make it worse for you, Captain," she purrs, voice thick with that of someone in control (and god, was the breathtaking when she acted like this, commanding tone and all, making the attachment in question pulse with want).

“ _Swan_ ,” he manages, broken and needy and strained, and she laughs, goddamn laughs before kneeling in front of him, pushing her blonde hair out of the way as she kisses his tip, tongue poking out just enough that he can feel her swipe up the pre-cum. 

"Gods," he groans, hips writhing in the chair. 

She places both hands firmly on his thighs, brushing her lips tauntingly slow down his shaft. The chair jumps when she places a few inches of him in her mouth, causing her to move away.

"Ah, ah, ah, pirate," she says in a sing-song voice that has him gritting his teeth in frustration. "My game, my rules.  _Sit still_.”

He mumbles, “As you wish,” before she puts all of him in her mouth, cheeks hollowing out, tongue licking the vein that has protruded out through his skin. Her head bobs all the way up before sinking him into her mouth again, creating a rhythm that has him straining to stay still as she’d asked, his hips guiding his cock further and further into her, almost hitting the back of her throat with every ungraceful thrust.

He feels the heat pool low in his belly, can see her hand wander down her abdomen, rubbing through her folds as she glides her teeth up his shaft before releasing his mouth with a wet pop.

"You’re a vixen, love," he groans, head falling back in desperate pleasure as he thrusts his hips in her direction, begging her silently to continue, to help him find the release he craves.

She stands up, guiding him through her wet folds before lowering onto him, grinding her hips in a circular fashion that has them both gasping for air, maintaining the act for mere seconds before he feels her walls clench hard and fast around him, his release tearing him apart not soon after.


	24. Under the Table, During Dinner

She’s never been more grateful for the ugly tablecloth hanging over the dinner table in the loft as her mother barges in unannounced, baby in tow.

"Emma!" she exclaims, plopping herself on a barstool, baby snoring peacefully in the carseat as she places little Neal on the counter. "Eating alone?"

 

"Y-yeah," she stutters, trying not to rock her hips in any sort of fashion that would give away the pirate currently parked between her thighs, tongue doing unspeakable things to her clit.

"Where’s Killian?" Snow asks, and Emma grits her teeth, biting down the moan that threatens to escape from her throat.

“ _Killian_ ,” she lets out in a breathless whimper, her face blushing red. “Uh… K-Killian went to the store for br-bread.” _  
_

Killian’s hand grabs her thigh, holding her in place, hook nudging her dress up just a little higher, his tongue jutting in between her folds, hitting her _right there,_ her body exploding with sparks as desperately tries to keep her composure.

"Are you sure you’re alright, Emma?" Snow presses, Emma’s teeth biting down hard on her bottom lip.

"Never. Been. Better," she manages as Killian pumps one finger in alongside his tongue.

Snow nods politely, scooping the baby and heading for the back room. 

It’s then that Killian’s speed increases, his tongue swirling and pushing, teeth nibbling on her clit. He pulls his mouth away, two fingers thrusting easily into her, his hook digging into her hip to keep her steady. 

"That’s it, love," he murmurs from under the table as she clenches around him, back arching off the chair, head falling back, blonde curls splayed across her shoulders in a golden halo. "Come for me."

She grips the table, feeling the white hot spark of pleasure wash over her, mind numb and body limp as she falls down from her high. He gingerly kisses up and down her thigh before sneaking up from under the tablecloth, resting his head in her lap.

"We almost got caught," Emma whispers, cocking her head in the direction of Snow’s bedroom.

Killian chuckles, getting up off the floor and sitting back down in his seat at the table. “Just be lucky it wasn’t your father who came home.”


	25. Rain

It’s nights likes these when Killian is thankful for the schizophrenic weather of Storybrooke, rain and sleet and snow on and off and on again. Tonight, it’s rain… and boy, is it on.

They had wandered down to the docks, attempting to get in a late evening stroll when the heavens had opened up and thrust its evil wrath upon them. It’s frantic and chaotic as they run for cover, Emma’s hand slipping easily into his as they duck under the awning of a boathouse, Emma jiggling the handle of the door before they’re in.

 

His leathers are wet, beads of water dripping down, down,  _down_  and his hair is an unkempt, sloshy mess. He shrugs his jacket off before he looks over at Emma, suddenly realizing that she was sans coat on this unusually balmy evening in town and the white sweater she’d been wearing is downright drenched and soaked through.

If she notices, she doesn’t say anything, wringing out her long blond strands, her neck arching just enough to entice him to bite it. Her sweater clings to her skin as if it’s been painted on there, and her nipples poke out through the fabric.

He growls under his breath, watching as her eyes shoot up towards him.

"You’re a bloody tease, you know that?"

She raises an eyebrow causing him to gesture at her chest.

"Your…  _shirt_ ,” he croaks out, swallowing hard, realizing that she can still overwhelm him after weeks of whatever-it-is-they’re-calling-this.

She looks down, smirking at the predicament she’s in and tugs at the hem of the shirt, pulling it over her head before shrugging out of her jeans and underwear.

"Swan,  _Swan_ , what are you…”

She pushes him against the nearest flat surface.

"Just thinking we should take advantage of our little  _problem_ ,” she purrs, licking a wet stripe from his collarbone to his earlobe, tugging on the earring there.

He shudders as his good hand reaches between them, palming at the damp bra. Her hand reaches down to cup him through his pants, groaning when the lace of her bra and the rough fabric of his shirt create a tantalizing friction against her sensitive nipples. 

She unlaced his leathers quickly, sinking down on him in one fell swoop, heat blossoming between them as the rain continues to batter down on the roof, the boathouse filled with moans and whimpers and the exclamation of  _'D_ _ear God Killian_ ' tumbling uncontrollably from her lips.


	26. Her Wet Dream

It’s around midnight when he hears her whimper in her sleep, a soft mewling sound that creeps into the air and echoes throughout the room. He’s been here before—soothing her after nightmares of Neal’s funeral, Neverland, losing Henry, growing up an orphan—but this evening, she’s practically creating electricity in the air, stirring some sort of heat inside him that he can’t seem to quell.

“ _Killian_ ,” she all but moans out, body writhing underneath the sheets that seem to move dangerously low on her back, revealing taut muscles and the curve of her hips, blonde curls tumbling across her shoulders. “God, Killian,  _yes_.”

 

His hand slips below the sheets, grasping himself and stroking, finding himself hard and ready from just the sound of her porcelain voice whispering his name like a goddamn prayer. 

Her back arches on its own as she moans his name into the night, a short hum escaping her throat as he leans over to her body, placing a soft kiss between her shoulder blades before trailing his lips down her spine. His hand leaves his cock, placing two fingers between her legs, feeling her wet and wanting and gods, so  _so beautiful_. He rubs through her folds, before pulsing one finger in between them, grinning against her back when she rocks her hips into him.

"Oh god,  _Killian_ ,” she whispers again, and he thrusts another finger in, dragging against her walls, relishing in the way her hips roll despite her current state.

He can’t help the groan that tumbles from his lips, her body answering to his touch unbeknownst to her and it’s then that she stills, suddenly awake as she turns in the bed, taking notice of the flush of his cheeks, the furrow of his brow, his hand moving in slow, even strokes between her thighs.

"What are you— _fuck_ ,” she moans, the turn of her body helping to spread her legs as he takes her faster, fingers thrusting in quick, fluid motions as she grinds down onto his hand. “ _Fuck_ , just like  _t-that_.”

“ _Emma_ ,” he croons, taking her mouth in a heated kiss that has her moaning and writhing off the bed, grasping his unruly black hair and shoving his lips towards her breast. He takes a nipple in his mouth, sucking and pulling and nipping, flicking his tongue out to soothe the burn.

He feels her walls clench, her hips rocking upwards until she’s biting down hard on his neck, whimpering beneath him, sheets strewn off their naked bodies, hearts pounding in their chests as he helps her ride out her orgasm.

"What… what was  _that_  for?” she finally asks when her breathing has calmed.

Killian smirks. “You were having a dream, love.”

"A dream? About what?"

He rolls over, pinning her below him as he peppers her neck and collarbone and breasts with quick pecks that have her whining at the simplicity of it. He never does answer her, opting to sink into her instead, filling her up with deliciously long thrusts, simply showing her that dreams really do come true.


End file.
